Friday, October 21, 2011

Why I Don't Watch Scary Movies

I did not sleep well last night. I tossed and turned trying to get to sleep, and when I finally drifted off I had vivid and unsettling dreams about demons and exorcism. Now, I'm not overly religious; however, I do try to keep my mind free of negative, scary, and creepy things. No need to provide fodder for an over active imagination.

Unfortunately, I dated a guy over the summer who loved scary movies, and he wouldn't rest until I agreed to watch at least one. I made the mistake of letting him pick the movie we were going to watch, and, of course, he showed up with The Exorcist. Lovely. We sat down to watch it, and aside from some truly twisted and horrific scenes, the movie as a whole wasn't nearly as terrifying as I thought it was going to be.

Well, let me rephrase that, it wasn't terrifying until that night when every whisper of a sound had me convinced that there were demons in the attic.

For the next two months, there wasn't a night I didn't go to bed without thinking about The Exorcist before forcefully wrenching my mind onto more pleasant topics (who knew the Disney princess movies would come in so handy?).

This practice worked tolerably well until late in the summer, when I was staying at my parents house. I had gone to bed about an hour after my parents, and had just hunkered down under my sheets when I heard the slightest thump in the hallway. Satan is in the hallway, my imagination said.Instantly, my logic began an argument with my imagination, and I began trying to convince myself that it was just the family cat. It's just the cat. It's just the cat. It's just the cat.

What if it's Satan? my imagination suggested.

It's just the cat. It's just the cat. It's just the cat, my logic countered with even more fervor and intensity.

I took a deep breath, and tried to shift my thoughts to something more positive when I heard the slight shuffle of something moving across the carpet in my room. Whatever it was that made the noise was obviously much larger than the cat. I gulped and forced myself to roll over and look only to find a huge shadow looming over my bed. I screamed.

AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!

The shadow screamed, "AAAAHHHH!!!"

"Good lord, mom! What are you doing?!"

"I'm looking for my dog!" She said as though it was the most normal thing for her to be doing at 10 at night an hour after she'd already gone to bed.

She left shortly after, and in the silence I could still hear my heart pounding in my ears. Apparently, Satan doesn't live in the hallway in my parents' house.But with an imagination like mine, it's best not to add fuel to the fire.